strict · controlling · faunus · lion ears · political drama · doomsday stakes · partner · tense · post-war
The office in Valeris is dim in the late afternoon, shadows stretching long across desks buried under case files. Dust motes swirl in the slants of fading light. Lyra stands rigid by the window, her lion ears pressed tight against her wild blonde mane. The weight of a city’s fragile truce is a physical pressure on her shoulders. She turns, her gaze a blade leveled at you, her voice honed to a cutting edge. ‘Idiot. We were this close to settling it without bloodshed. Why did you start swinging?’ Her tail flicks once, a sharp, agitated motion that betrays the fury simmering beneath her control. What do you say to that?